


Table Stakes

by hikorichan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Drabble, Erotica, F/M, Femdom, Human Furniture, Mild S&M, Mistress, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikorichan/pseuds/hikorichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What are you willing to give when your Mistress demands a table?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Table Stakes

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was created for the 2015 Summer of Severus Comment Fest on Livejournal. Prompts were "human furniture" and "submissive Severus". I couldn't resist!

“Don’t you think a table would look good here, Severus?” 

“Yes, Mistress.”

A wicked gleam appeared in her eyes, making Severus’s heart thump. 

He was ordered to the floor.

On hands and knees, a glass top was conjured and placed on his back. A vase filled with rich red roses and an ornate silver tea set clinked as they were set down above him.

“Well, if this isn't the most beautiful table I’ve ever seen.”

The small lash at the end of her crop teased his testicles, which hung low between his thighs, and stroked up his buttocks. He did not move.

An eggplant coloured pouf appeared by his head, visible through his curtain of long black hair. She sat, naked, her sex tantalizingly close, open thighs giving him a full view if he dared to look up, her musky smell present no matter where his eyes fell. Still, he stood like the wooden table he was commanded to be. 

He looked down, staring at her black patent stilettos as she moved above him, preparing tea upon his backside. The clink of a spoon. The slurp of tea against lips. A tap of cup against table. Then a soft rustle, and the scent of roses. Sharp thorns against his skin, then the silken caress of petals. Pain followed by relief. Again and again. 

For thirty minutes, he teetered on the edge, his body aching under the weight of the glass, his nerves tangled by the pain, the pleasure, the control. 

His soul, at peace. 

And finally, release. 

He bowed his head, kissed the feet of his Lady, his guide, his safe place. 

She brought him into her arms, her breasts now his pillows, her body his cradle.

“Such a good boy,” she crooned.

“Thank you, Mistress. Thank you.”


End file.
